Reflection Upon Transgressions
by Forensic Photographer711
Summary: She couldn’t have risked that, a dependence on him, it wasn’t worth the struggle. But it had been a savory temptation. Liz contemplates her actions towards Jack at the end of DMC, and the strange feelings he has always envoked in her


Summary: _She couldn't have risked that, a dependence on him, it wasn't worth the struggle. But it had been a savory temptation._ Elizabeth contemplates her actions towards Jack at the end of Dead Man's Chest, and the strange feelings he has always envoked in her. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Pirates of the Caribbean, that honor is rewarded to good 'ol Walt, rest his soul, Disney, Jerry, Gore, Ted and Terry, and the stinking awesome actors who brought the story to life. Lucky ducks. Proceeds to wallow about lack of ownage

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Reflection Upon Transgressions

She would never be able to forgive herself because her actions had been in a word, unforgivable. No confession or desperately pleading prayers would remedy that. Besides, she had never been an overly religious person in the first place, despite her upbringing. There had been many a time when she had been scolded severely for falling asleep during a sermon, or nodding off during communion. She had always blamed it on the hot and stifling weather of the island, aided more so to plague her within the confines of the stuffy church, and had gotten away with the excuse more times then she could care to count. But it had never stopped the firm reprimand and questioning doubt that would cloud her fathers eyes. She had always come out of those situations relatively unscathed though, and in particular more rested. 

For some perverse reason she wondered if he would be proud of that fact, that little tidbit of knowledge, so lacking in comparison to anything he had ever done to be sure. But then again take a look back at herself, she had gone from dozing off in a pew, to condemning a man to death for her own selfish reasons. A large jump to be sure, and she couldn't help but think again, that maybe if he hadn't been the one on the receiving end of her actions, if he would admire how she had used his curiosity and lustful personality against him. It had been cleverly misleading and deceitful, something he probably would have done himself. She could tell after the deed had been done and he was chained to the mast, that he was indeed rather shocked at having his own medicine used against him, and even more so by the fact that it had been her administering it.

But the initial shock wore off quickly, and a mask of a different sort, far from the lumbering, flighty drunk he normally portrayed, stole over his features. The word he uttered next confirming the fact he really had not been too shocked by her actions. Approval as well as knowing and fear of what was to come shining though in two syllables.

_Pirate_

He had been the one after all to view her transformation first hand, in many ways was in fact the catalyst for such a change from being a naïve damsel in distress, to a slightly bitter adventurous betrayer, this stemming firstly from the wonderful and nearly mystic tales she had heard as a small child, to the first time she had manipulated him on that island using rum and a clear head to achieve her own ends, and finally the icing on her demeanor transforming cake, their last and most likely final endeavor, unless this way ward trip went as planned, where she had again acted mainly in her own interest. But unlike the first time she now had a gross amount of guilt and regret gnawing at her gut.

He must have seen the final climactic stage of her conversion to a ner' do well cad, a buccaneer, a pirate, but he most likely didn't see it manifesting itself in the form of his own seduction and betrayal. Perhaps if she kept thinking he had known what was coming and had just let the inevitable happen, let what he had pushed her to become occur, then the guilt and pain she felt for killing a man would lessen. A man despite his unsavory ruthless character, deadly charismatic charm, lack of scruples and hygiene, or consistencies for that matter, she had some sort of indescribable feelings for.

It wasn't as if she loved him. She could laugh at the thought. No, this was no where close to love, maybe just a lustful admiration, for she did admire him for his appearance but more so for his lust for life and freedom, something she envied greatly and wished she had the same passion for. And right there inlayed why she could never love him. They were too much alike, both people who craved for the unpredictable crash of the sea and the overpowering freedom it strung along in it's wake.

She may have kissed the man, may have enjoyed said kiss with a little more intensity then necessary, but the only reason she had instated it, besides a means to an unpleasant end, was to sate the unending curiosity that had bloomed within her since his proposal of marriage, even if it had been in jest or not. She had wanted to know what it tasted like indeed, and discovered it quite amazing despite herself, knowing if she had attempted to indulge herself more she would certainly have become addicted as she was sure many others had in the past, and quite possibly still were. She couldn't have risked that, a dependence on him, it wasn't worth the struggle. But it had been a savory temptation.

What she could ascertain that she felt for this man, as complex and yet as simple as he was, a walking contradiction, was something vaguely akin to reverence. She had always held him up on a pedestal, above any mere mortal, most likely due to the grand adventures regaled to her throughout the years. But actually getting to know him on a somewhat personal level due to their sordid adventures, learning a great deal of the tales were false, being an enemy and ally, had caused the immortal image to falter. Yet with his descent to a more human level she appreciated the fact that he could be vulnerable, and weak, in his own odd interpretations of the terms.

Could be touched. Could be kissed.

_Could be killed._

But the fact that she had been able to overthrow her hero of sorts, more like borderline fascination, unsettled and disturbed her greatly. It just didn't seem possible, or rather probable, that she, Elizabeth Swann, a mere Governor's daughter, had been able to best the infamous, notorious, wondrous, Captain Jack Sparrow at his own game.

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A/N: To be honest, I pretty much pulled this out of the air this morning, the first line randomly coming to me, and when I typed it out I immediatly thought of Elizabeth and the "kiss of death". Then before I knew it inspiration was flowing, and I have to admit it was pretty sweet. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did, I'm really rather happy with it.


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